The Chateau Chronicles – Monsieur Propre

I probably should back up a little here because I missed the two days of cleaning I undertook with my friend, Wendy before I officially moved into the house. Because of the bank account debacle, and the ensuing lack of electricity, we made the decision not to move into the house until the electricity could be turned on (wishful thinking). I found a hotel, not far from the Chateau that had a pool and given the plus 100-degree temps, a pool sounded divine. We moved from our cute Airbnb in Agen to this strange hotel where there was barely enough room for the bed, let alone a suitcase which we had to place on the bed to open. And this was in a much more rural location, where presumably, space was not such a scarce resource. We suffered further insult when we were reprimanded by the propriétaire for not adequately covering our bathing suits for our short walk through the lobby to the pool. But all was forgiven after a long swim and an Aperol spritz.

The cleaning of the house was a lesson in cleaning products. Wendy I and stood for a very long time in the cleaning aisle of Castorama (French for Home Depot) trying to decipher labels as we tried to figure out what to use to clean floors vs. countertops, glass and toilets. We were happy to discover “Monsieur Propre” recognizable face (Mr. Clean) and we were pretty sure that he would work in almost all instances. I found another cleaner containing vinegar, which I thought would be a good, gentle cleaner for the wooden floors. The clear blue liquid was obviously window cleaner, so that was easy. But we had no idea what might be a good oil or wax for the wooden floors. There seemed to be nothing that resembled Murphy’s Oil Soap. In the end, we bought way too many products, hoping to discover their uses through trial and error.

We were both eager to get to work. Wendy started with mopping the floors and quickly discovered that Monsieur Propre (I will now never call it anything else) did the job well. I was eager to start in on the greasy kitchen, removing the odd stainless steel shelving that I supposed had encased at the stove, though the design was unclear. I quickly had it unscrewed and hauled into the bakery cave (which is now the repository for things going to the dump). I decided the vinegar cleaner might work well on the layer of caked grease that was exposed upon the shelf removal. The grease dripped down the tile satisfyingly and I easily wiped it away. For the floors, it was again Monsieur Propre for the win.

Wendy at work on the bedroom floors

Me tackling the kitchen

The next day, I took a crack at cleaning the mosaic tiled floor, but there was a downpour and I realized that the drain in the courtyard was clogged with leaves and dirt and so I dashed outside to clear it, getting soaked in the process. It suddenly became clear why the big green front door has water damage on the bottom. Clearly, this drain is easily clogged and when it is, the entire courtyard gets flooded. I made the mental note to ensure it gets weekly leaf-blower attention.

Just before realizing I had a major flood on my hands

After the storm, mopping soaked to the skin.

The water damaged front door

Wendy was also present when I had the first load of furniture delivered. It was quite an exciting day, as everything came at once. Brocante furniture, the splurge of a chaise lounge, and three mattresses.

I was excited to put my new bed together, and in the hour before I had to drop Wendy off at the train, we put it together…

Excitedly putting the bed together

…only to discover that my mattress was too big and I needed a mattress platform.

Measuring too late

The day after Wendy’s departure, I was determined to get lots done. I now had paint samples to try out on one of the shutters and I was dying to tear up the awful carpet in my ensuite bathroom and see what was underneath. I hoped for some nice old floors…

Nasty carpet removal revealing not-so-great floors.

…but got stained and water-damaged modern sub-floors. So, this bathroom was a disaster. The toilet was broken, the sinks (double sinks!) both twisted around on their cheap IKEA table and leaked and the ugly tiled shower had no door. And the floors were a disaster. My quick and dirty solution was to paint them, so off to the paint store I went. While I was there, I bought a new toilet and a dolly, had some plywood cut for a new bed platform, and tried to find a door/curtain for the ugly shower. That evening, I painted stripes of color on one of the shutters and contemplated the result over a glass of rosé. I needed a small win.

The next day, I cleaned that nasty bathroom floor with the vinegar cleaner, since I had been impressed with how it had performed on the kitchen grease, and my eyes watered stung as I cleaned. I had no idea that vinegar could smell so strong. It was as nasty as bleach, but it seemed to work its magic on the damp, stained floors and the next day, I sealed the floor with a varnish before painting the floors white. It looked better, but little did I know that that vinegar smell would linger, and now that I have hermetically sealed the wood, I fear it is there to stay.

I should have stuck with Monsieur Propre.

I leave you with a couple of quick videos of my derriere, as I work to seal in the beautiful odors of cleanliness gone wrong.

Sealing in the smell

Locked and loaded